Chanson de Sang
by Grey L. Bloom
Summary: Vampires in AnkhMorpork. Constable Neris de Sang and her sister Paj have to find out who or what it is before it's too late. Finished.
1. Prologue

A/N: It's my new story, whee! Vampires in Ankh-Morpork... I think that Sam Vimes might have something to say about that. The vampires are mine, the world isn't. There's yer disclaimer. Tell me if you like it, everybody! (The story, not the disclaimer, heheh.)  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
Item: vampire jailed in Quirm for killing a Morporkian traveller.  
  
Item: vampire jailed in Quirm has disappeared.  
  
Item: Ankh-Morpork ridden with vampire attacks.  
  
  
  
Sit quietly. No sound. Don't make a sound. A good hunter waits. Wait. Wait. Wait. Quiet. Wait. Wait. Wait. Don't move.  
  
She could smell the blood. It was driving her mad.  
  
Her quarry moved in the dark, and her nostrils flared. It would be in range in one... two... three...  
  
  
  
The girl sat at her desk in the candlelight, staring at the parchment rolled out in front of her and tapping her quill absent-mindedly on the table, leaving a growing ink splotch. She had been at the homework for hours now, and she was still on question six. "Damn and blast," she muttered.  
  
A crash of breaking glass shattered the silence. The girl didn't flinch, much less look up. "You're back eeeeaaaaaarly," she stated, humming the last word in a taunting tone. "Not to mention the fact that the landlady with have our HEADS for that window. And you've been so GOOD so far."  
  
"Ask me if I care," the figure muttered in a guttural tone, standing up and brushing some glass off.   
  
The girl looked up without moving her head. "Rough night?"  
  
"Like always," the shadow grunted, slouching over to a bed in the corner. "Why aren't you in bed?"  
  
The girl sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Homework."  
  
The figure grimaced. "Ah."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"Daylight isn't for five hours," the girl said slowly, watching the shadow on the bed carefully. "Why aren't you still out?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Close call?"  
  
A grunt.  
  
"I see." She began inspecting her quill, turning it over and over in her black-stained fingers. "Was it close, or...?"  
  
"Just close. No more. I managed."  
  
"You managed. So no mindless slaves to make my bed?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"That sucks. Why can't you let loose just once?"  
  
The shadow on the bed growled.  
  
The girl sighed. "Forget I mentioned it. No, really, I'm serious, forget it. Now," she continued, turning back to her parchment, "what is 39x(48y-9z)...?"  
  
"No! No math," the figure shot back, tense and shivering. "Don't you understand? There's something else out there. People are going to think it's me. They ALWAYS think it's me."  
  
The girl turned. Her eyes glinted in the candlelight. "Then make sure they don't," she said, the beginnings of a grin on her face. 


	2. Heureux dans la Mort

A/N: Written in purple pajamas, drinking a glass of milk, and trying to ignore sports blaring in the background. I'm trying to think like a deranged vampire and it's not working very well, dang it. I think I'll listen to some evil music... oh, a tip for writing evil things... listen to "Carmina Burana" on repeat. It's some of the most completely evil music out there.  
  
Chapter 1 - Heureux dans la Mort  
  
  
The haunting strains of Leonard de Quirm's "Daydream" came down the hallway. Footsteps came with them, skipping beats and landing lightly on the wooden floor. Paj de Sang stood, her long, black silk dress hissing with the movement. Her dozens of thin black braids rustled between her shoulderblades, shining dully in the light from a covered window.  
  
The song faded as the doorknob turned. Paj's ice blue eyes widened, watching the intricately cast ball of brass as it moved. The dark mahogany door opened with an ominous creak.  
  
"Honestly, Paj," Neris de Sang scolded, skipping into the room with a grin on her face. "I don't see how you can stay in here when the sun is shining. It's so dank and dusty and mucky." The red-haired girl bounced to her sister, stood on her toes to peck her on the cheek, and continued her commentary. "Oh, sorry, the sun's so bright, I forgot to take these things off." She smiled apologetically and drew the wire-framed sunglasses from her wide green eyes.  
  
They were an unlikely pair. Paj stood at nearly six feet, an ominous figure in black and red, with straight black hair and cold blue eyes that looked through you. Her skin was pale and wan, stretched over her cheekbones. She would be stunningly gorgeous if she didn't look as though she were about three days dead all the time.  
  
Neris stood at barely five feet, slightly built and rosy-cheeked. Her red hair was poofy and cropped just under her ears, her eyes were a light leaf green, and she always seemed to have a vague grin on her face. She normally wore yellow or green or blue, dresses hemmed short, wild petticoats, and red shoes when she could get away with it. She was cute and perky and had a nose that was two sizes too large. She was, in short, like someone who would burst spontaneously into song about haunted musical mountains at any point in time.  
  
Paj sat and glared as Neris skipped about lighting candles and lamps until the walls seemed to glow. The red-haired girl skimmed a finger over the bookshelf. "And the dust!" she exclaimed, wiping her hand on her dress and leaving a long gray streak. "I know it's hard for you living in the city and all, but can't you at least clean up? And look, your coffin is a mess."  
  
"My coffin is MY business!" Paj moaned, covering her eyes with a hand. Her voice was low and slightly hoarse, as though she wasn't used to talking. "Can't we talk about something else?" Her sister shrugged, fluffing the black velvet pillow. "How was work?"  
  
Neris smiled, replacing the pillow and straightening the blue silk lining. "Oh, just like always," she replied. "The Commander is in his own little world; mostly he does paperwork with Captain Ironfoundersson and gets called up to the Oblong Office. Luckily I managed to get a post near where the Ankh curves, you know, the place with the good Kosher butchers, and that got most of the other officers out of my hair. Sergeant Colon doesn't really care what I do as long as I don't make him leave his doughnut."  
  
"So no trouble?" Paj asked, scanning the pages of a miscellanious black leather-bound book.   
  
"None at all!" Neris replied, taking the book out of Paj's hands as she walked past. The taller girl squeaked in protest. "You KNOW I don't want you reading this garbage, Paj. Romantic nonsense about vampires and suchlike. Vampires are many things, but NOT romantic."  
  
"You're just jealous," Paj said, trying to surreptitiously grab the book back. "I mean, it IS rather exciting. Vampires and all. Why don't you ever let ME... ah..."   
  
Neris glared at her, her smile faded. "Because I don't want the hall to be mucked up with a stake-carrying mob," she answered bluntly, closing the book with a snap. Her normally warm green eyes were cold and distant, seeing something far away and a long time ago. "This won't be like Quirm. I won't LET this be like Quirm. They caught him, they caught him and they STILL-"   
  
"Fine, it's fine, it's all right now," Paj interrupted quickly, standing with a jerk. She grabbed her sister's wrist. "Forget I said anything. I promise I won't read the book anymore. Please?"   
  
Neris smiled dully, her eyes hauntingly lucid in the flickering candelight. "There was another attack, you know," she said, her voice hollow. Paj widened her eyes and her grip on Neris's wrist tightened. "A girl. She was four years old. Blonde. Mister Vimes swore up a storm and spit cigar bits all over the place. Left bloodless, like the rest of them."  
  
Paj opened her mouth, and closed it again, faced with the futility of what she could have said. Neris almost never got like this, it was an occurence as common as discovering your father wore ladies underwear and danced at your favorite club every Wednesday night. 'So, once,' Paj thought.   
  
"That's why I don't want you doing..." Neris gestured blankly around the room, "...This. Coffins. Vampire books. Mistress of the Night. People are going to get ideas and come stake you or something."   
  
"Mobs are stupid," Paj remarked calmly, brushing her sister's words away with a hand. "I can handle just about anything that comes along."  
  
Neris grinned, suddenly back to normal. "Not according to the recent evidence," she laughed, waving a mock-scolding forefinger. Paj made a face at her. "I remember that one time when you were seven years old and you-"  
  
"Okay, that's enough nostalgia for ONE day," Paj cut in, placing a hand on Neris's mouth. Neris winked and grinned around the obstruction. "What do you want for dinner?"  
  
The red-haired girl moved her sister's hand. "Nothing fancy," she replied, cocking her head on one side. "I sorta' lost my appetite on the job. Watching Sergeant Colon eat on an empty stomach is not for the faint-hearted." She grinned and fished in her pocket. "Wanna' peppermint?"  
  
  
  
Ah, darkness. Better than anything. Cool and sweet and marvelously decadent.   
  
Dimitriev Gorshelikov stepped out onto the curb, straightening his collar carefully. It would not do to be seen in public without cleaning up after a meal, not at all.   
  
He waved cheerfully to the Watchman on the corner, who waved back. "Bloody cold night, isn't it," he commented, walking up. He was still hungry, after all. Why not?  
  
The Watchman nodded, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Tell me about it," he answered miserably. "Not right for this time of year. In MY day, it was always warm by now."  
  
"Was it now?" Dimitriev asked politely, checking his silver pocket watch carefully. Ten more hours. Perfect. "By the middle of January? Always?"  
  
The Watchman faltered. "Yes," he said eventually. "Warmer back then. Before Disc Cooling started."  
  
"Funny," Dimitriev commented, lighting a cigarette. "I remember it being terribly cold."  
  
"All year?"  
  
"All year. But of course, that was in the old country."  
  
The Watchman gave him a sideways glare. "'Ere, you're not from here? You sound like you are."  
  
Dimitriev grinned around his cigarette. "Oh, no." He took a drag. "Not HERE."  
  
He dropped the addictive cylinder and stepped on it carefully. It crunched. "I'm from Uberwald, actually. Quite a lovely country, if you manage to avoid the howling mobs banging on your front door all day and night long. They can get quite annoying if you don't bite enough of them." 


	3. Penchant de Sang

A/N: Listening to "Carmina Burana" again. My goodness, this music is PERFECT. The whole plot of the song (opera? It's in Italian, at any rate) is about a monk who gets seduced or something. Very scary, heehee. Next on my playlist is "Reverie" by Debussy... haunting and all that. Almost too happy. Blah.   
  
Must work on foreshadowing! Must keep identities of vampires almost but not quite in the light! Must... Write... Better! *bangs head on table*  
  
Teeny-weeny disclaimer: The title of "O Let Me Suck Of Water Pure" is Terry Pratchett's, but I wrote the lyrics. Um... yeah.  
  
  
  
Chapter 2 - "Penchant de Sang"  
  
  
  
"O Let Me Suck Of Water Pure" ~ A song sung by Black Ribboners  
  
"Human juice is not for me,  
Milk and sugar make a difference  
Cow juice, maybe, or green tea,  
Blood is not an interference.  
  
"O let me suck of water pure,  
And stay quite in the light,  
I will never stray for sure,  
Without putting up a fight."  
  
  
  
Peppermint hung heavily in the air, alongside the intoxicating smell of cigarette smoke. The wind was beginning to drive the scent away, but to Sergeant Angua the crackling light blue and booming greenish-brown whisps hung in the air. Two figures... two men. One had stayed at the scene, one had stayed... for a while..   
  
Angua snuffled the dead Watchmen's coat. Oh, yes. He had stayed at the scene all right.  
  
The cigarette lay crushed a few feet away, damp with fog and drizzle. It still gave off wafts of noxious brown stench that choked her when she tried to catch the peppermint.  
  
Damn. THREE figures. One had come and gone so quickly she hadn't noticed. A passerby, most likely, astonished by the sight of a dead man, drained dry, enough to run off. Other smells were about as well; passers-by, people who had stood at the corner waiting to cross the street, people who had stopped to lose their most recent meal. All of those had occurred... before.  
  
Or... She dismissed the thought. One murderer was too many for this kind of job. Besides, the third person had come hours later, and was quite obviously not the same as the murderer. The scent was different, the emotion. Fear compared to satisfaction.  
  
Angua shivered and loped into a nearby alleyway to Change, trying to banish the images from her mind. If only, she thought, pulling on her breastplate. If only, if only, if only. If only she knew what to THINK, more like.  
  
She tried to compile a description of the killer in her mind. He was a killer, definitely. Impeccably clean despite the chain smoking, tendency to wear leather, starched linen...  
  
Blood on the linen, reeking as it conflicted with the starch.  
  
Damn.  
  
  
  
Neris paced nervously back and forth, sucking furiously on the piece of peppermint in her cheek. She felt guilty. Ashamed. Scared. Angry. Lost. Helpless. And alone, so terribly, terribly alone.  
  
She spun as the door opened, swallowing and choking on her peppermint. Vimes stared at her. She was a bit blue in the face and hacking like a cat with a large hairball. He offered her his glass of water, which she took with a grateful look and swallowed in a few gulps.  
  
Neris wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stopped, suddenly realizing where she was. "Uh, sorry about that, Commander," she stammered helplessly, handing the glass back shakily. He nodded, a bemused look on his face.  
  
"So, tell me, what was it you saw?" he asked, walked around his desk and sitting down behind the piles upon piles of paperwork. Neris could see her application poking out from underneath a salary chit.  
  
"A man, sir," she said. "A dead man. Um. A body, sir. Corpse. An hour ago, sir, by the Opera House."  
  
Vimes shut his eyes and veeeeery sloooowly put his head in his hands. "Thank you, Constable," he answered quietly, his voice muffled by his hands. "I know the many synonyms for 'dead body.' What's so special about this body? People die every day. Suicide,* murder, heart attacks... And what took you so long to tell me, anyway?"  
  
"Um, sir. He was bloodless, sir," she replied quickly, getting it over with. "Heart attacks don't drain you dry, sir. Um. Sir. And, um. He was wearing a Watch uniform, sir."  
  
Vimes swore under his breath. "A Watchman," he growled. "Now WHY on the DISC did it take you so long to get here, Constable?"  
  
Neris went a bit green. "I had to go, um, throw up, sir," she answered miserably, staring at the floor.  
  
Vimes stared at her. "You had to go throw up."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"Constable?"  
  
"Yessir?"  
  
"Go home," Vimes said, scratching his head and sighing. "The first murder is always the worst, if you're new. Sergeant Angua is patrolling in that area in any case, I'll send a pigeon, have her check it out. You get the rest of today and tomorrow off. It should have blown over by then."  
  
Neris stared unashamedly at him for nearly a minute before coming to. "Sir?"  
  
"Standard approach, Constable," Vimes growled, standing again and moving around the desk. "Don't think you're special. Everyone gets their first murder off. Um. Obviously not their OWN murder, escept for perhaps in the case of Constable Shoe, but... just... you know what I mean."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"Go home."  
  
"Yessir. Right away, sir."  
  
Neris nearly ran out the door, shutting it carefully behind her. Vimes could hear her taking the steps two at a time, breathing heavily.  
  
He'd lied, of course. Almost nobody got their first murder off. Almost nobody's first murder was by a vampire, then again. Ye gods, he would've made FRED take a few days off if he'd come across one of those, and Fred was one of the most experienced on the force, himself included. You just don't find a bloodless corpse and then walk away from it the same way you were before. That was why he hated vampires. They messed with people's heads.  
  
Something had to be done, quick. This was the third attack in a month. They thought they had caught the vampires responsible each time, had staked them and put the ashes in jars in the cellar. But this one was behind it all. Last time it was a little girl. The time before that it was an old man on Hogswatch. And now a Watchman.  
  
Something had to be done.  
  
  
________  
* Suicide: Jumping off buildings, drug overdose, slitting wrists, talking smack in the Shades, bringing money into the Shades, bring clothing into the Shades, offending a lady of negotiable virtue in the Shades, going into the Shades... 


	4. Ruban Noir

A/N: Eating a bananananana nut muffin. My sister and I made up a new phobia last night... angoraphobia. Fear of fuzzy things. Ohohohohohoho!!!!!  
  
Bah... 'M afraid I'm not doing this very well. But who cares? I write, I post, funfunfun!  
  
  
Chapter 3 - Ruban Noir  
  
  
  
Neris closed the door very, very carefully. The pale features, the dull eyes, the gaping mouth, the hand outstretched on the pavement...   
  
For a split second she that it had been... no. Paj's books and mooning about was getting to her. It couldn't have been.  
  
"Neris, look at this," Paj said behind her. Neris jumped. "See, it shows how-"  
  
"No," Neris interrupted, waving a hand. "One vampire in this family is enough."  
  
Paj scowled, the grimace unusual and childish on her delicate features. "Don't you want..." She spread her hands out, one holding the book. "I don't know."  
  
"No, I don't, Paj," Neris replied wearily. "I just want to go to bed."  
  
Paj gave a long, hard look. "Another attack?"  
  
Neris nodded, sliding down the door until she could rest her forehead on her knees. "Yes. A Watchman. I didn't know him, I wouldn't have known he was a Watchman without his badge. I couldn't have known."   
  
Paj sighed. "I certainly hope Vimes gave you the day off."  
  
"He did. Tomorrow too."  
  
The black-haired girl bit her lip, hesitated, then reached her hand down to Neris. "Let's just go to bed. It'll be better in the morning."  
  
Neris smiled and took the hand. "You're probably right."  
  
There was silence as the girls changed into nightclothes, snuffed out candles, and got into bed. The quiet sucked at them, willing them to talk and giggle like sisters did.  
  
"Um..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you ever think about..."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About the day you were bitten."  
  
There was silence for a moment.   
  
"Of course I do." The voice was bitter. "Mostly at three am. Oh, yes, I had a nice neck and looked good in an underwire nightgown... that's all they really look for, you know."  
  
Hesitation, then: "What was it like? Did it hurt?"  
  
"I screamed, but it didn't hurt, exactly. I felt like I was falling backwards into this big thick pink cloud and these claws on my neck were pulling me with them. No, it didn't hurt. But I did feel like I was dying, which I suppose I technically was."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Um... so... Do you want me to close your coffin?"  
  
"No, that's all right."  
  
"Good night, then."  
  
"No... good morning."  
  
  
  
Dimitriev walked down the road, humming to himself and skipping up and down off the curb like a gothic version of a character in "Singing in the Rain." A cigarette hung from his hand, trailing smoke like a busted jet engine.  
  
He had had a really great night.  
  
But... the Watch had a Werewolf.  
  
The whispers had reached him, even in his merry seclusion. It was beginning to worry him. Even the worst of Werewolves could smell a Vampire three miles off. Aniseed, then? He was rich, after all. It was a trait often found in Vampires. He couldn't blow his cover, not now. The stakes were too high.  
  
The Watch had a Werewolf.  
  
Dimitriev knew that the city was full of other Vampires, Black Ribbon traitors every one of them, but there was something...  
  
He paused on the corner and inhaled, smelling the sharply-sweet smell of peppermint. It hung in the air like a brittle yet alluring perfume.  
  
The Watch had a Werewolf, but he had a Vampire.*  
  
Dimitriev unfolded his wings and vanished into the night with the harsh sound of leather dragged across metal.  
  
_____________  
* Himself. Our dear Dimitriev is something of an egotist, can you tell? 


	5. Aucune Douleur

A/N: I don't know what it is about this story, but I'm always having Writer's Block on it or getting inspirations one after the other like some sort of freak assembly line. Blagh. Of course, I write, therefore... I'm an idiot? I think I've lost it, heehee! And I know that I said in the reviews that there were going to be drunk, angsty Vimes bits in Chapter 3... um. Heheh. It didn't fit, so I saved it for later. Whee.  
  
  
Chapter 4 - Aucune Douleur  
  
  
  
Sergeant Angua stared at a streetlight on the corner outside Pseudopolis Yard.  
  
A scent the color of dry cream danced in the wind there, making her raise her hackles involuntarily. He had the NERVE, he DARED, he DARED to come this close to the Watch House. Of all the blasted people who walked by, it had to be him. That bastard.  
  
She stalked stiffly across the street, the smell getting stronger. Last night. Dammit, he had been there LAST NIGHT. She could have gotten him! She could have gotten one of those feelings that Mister Vimes got, she could have known something was going to happen, she could have... could have...  
  
Angua swore loudly and kicked the streetlight so hard that the metal pole rang with the impact. Of all the bloody things she could've bloody done, she bloody didn't do a bloody one of them. Bloody hell. That bloody bastard, he had the bloody NERVE.  
  
"What's the matter, Angua?" Carrot asked, trotting across the street with cries of "excuse me!" "Pardon me!" and "Hello there, mr. Stronginthearm! How's the nightclub going?"  
  
"That bloody Vampire was bloody here last bloody night," she snarled, kicking the streetlight again. Carrot looked surprised. "At least he was bloody worried, the bloody bastard. Bloody worried for his bloody life, I hope!"  
  
"That's rather strong language, Angua," Carrot said a tad reproachfully. "At least now we know he's getting bold, our chances of getting him are better."  
  
Angua flung her hands up in the air. "That's just the bloody point!" she cried, her hair waving wildly around her shoulders. "Now that he's bloody bolder, do you know who will bloody be after him? The bloody Black Ribboners!"  
  
"And perhaps even Lord Downey," Carrot mused, rubbing his chin.  
  
Angua stared at him. "Lord Downey? What does HE have to do with all this?"  
  
"Unlicensed killing."  
  
Angua's features darkened and she grinned mirthlessly, showing more teeth than are normally present in a friendly smile. "That bloody Vampire doesn't have a bloody chance," she muttered, punching the air. "Three bloody organizations after him. He'll be bloody staked before the end of the bloody week."  
  
"Yes, yes, now please, stop swearing."  
  
"Sorry. I'm just too bloody stressed."  
  
  
  
Paj donned her sunglasses, opening the door carefully so as not to wake Neris. The small girl slept soundly, snoring softly in her nest of bright blue down comforters. Paj smiled over her shoulder at her sister, running pale fingers through her braided black hair one last time before she left.   
  
The winter sun was so crisply bright that Paj cringed as it hit her, blinking in the shadows, trying to rid the world of the purple and yellow lights that had invaded it so suddenly. Her vision swam as she walked along the street with a sort of ginger care, trying not to trip on the uneven cobbles and beggars.   
  
What was she thinking? Neris would kill her for this. But she had to do something... anything. Nothing had been the same since Quirm. They had dragged her, DRAGGED her. Like a cow to be slaughtered. She remembered the mayor swinging the wooden stake over his head, a mad glare in his eye. And then...  
  
Paj pushed the treacherous thought to the back of her head, to play its tinny eulogy alone. She had arrived, at any rate. The walls stretched up, blocking out the sun's rays. A small relief.  
  
She pushed the door open and took a step into a different world. Trolls and Dwarfs and Zombies and Humans and Gargoyles and Gnomes (and was that a Golem?) all running and shouting and laughing and being completely and utterly LOUD. There was a desk in the corner where a Vampire was filing a complaint, another where a mangy old man shouting "I done it! I done it all!" was held by two trolls.  
  
Paj's ears rang with the noise, but she managed to catch a Dwarf by the elbow as he hurried past. Maybe he was the wrong word... the braid was host to several pink bows, the axe had glitter on the handle, instead of leather breeches there was a leather skirt, and... high heeled boots. "Ye gods," Paj muttered. The Dwarf glared at her. Paj burned red. "Er, I mean... is it always this noisy?"  
  
"This is a slow day, actually," the Dwarf shouted back. "Can I help you with something?"  
  
"I need to talk to someone important," Paj yelled.  
  
The Dwarf opened her mouth, then hesitated as she looked Paj up and down. "Talk to Sergeant Detritus, right over there," she hollered, pointing at a large troll sitting gingerly at a desk, trying to fix a pen he had broken. "Tell him Corporal Littlebottom sent you."  
  
She nodded, but the Dwarf was already gone.  
  
Paj finally reached the desk, having been jostled by too many beings to count. "Excuse me, Sergeant Detritus?" she howled politely. The Troll looked up. "Corporal Littlebottom sent me."  
  
Here it was. The moment of truth. Paj gulped. "I want to help with the vampire case," she told him, laying the folded black ribbon on the wooden surface. His eyes went from her face to the ribbon.   
  
"Dat's a Black Ribbon," Detritus rumbled.   
  
"Yes," she said, taking off her sunglasses and playing nervously with the frames. "That's a black ribbon."  
  
Detritus focused on her for a moment. "I will take you to Mister Vimes," he said, standing.   
  
Paj slumped with relief, nearly dropping the sunglasses as she put them back on. "That would be... lovely." 


	6. Masque de Menthe Poivrée

A/N: Good-bye Writer's Block, Hello Butt Being Stuck To The Chair! Yes. This is an assembly line day. Better than having *shiver* Writer's Block.  
  
Luckily this is the only thing I'm working right now (*sigh*) so I can put my full attention on it. I'm having to physically force myself not to write a story on this really good idea I had about certain events in "Thief of Time..."   
  
  
Chapter 5 - Masque de Menthe Poivrée  
  
  
  
"Let me be honest to you..."  
  
"Paj."  
  
Vimes arched an eyebrow. "Just Paj."  
  
"Just Paj, please," Paj muttered, sitting awkwardly.  
  
"Well, Just Paj, let me be honest," Vimes continued. "I hate Vampires." Paj slouched in her chair as if she was retreating. "I don't even like Black Ribboners. Because you know that energy that Vampires put into craving blood? If they stop using it for that, they use it for SOMETHING ELSE. That means we have a bunch of fanatic Vampires running around hurting people who insult their favorite painter or singer or actor."  
  
"I don't do that sort of thing, your Grace," Paj whispered, slouching deeper in her chair.   
  
The man was NOT what she had expected. Neris had described him as rough and mildly good-natured. Not this stonefaced crazy man. Ye gods, he had already smoked three whole cigars, started on his fourth, and kept opening and closing the bottom drawer of his desk without seeming to realize it. His nerves were quite obviously not up to their standard. Of course, she didn't KNOW the spastic freak of nature, he might be acting like he always did...  
  
Vimes gave her a long stare. "Of course you don't," he said finally, sarcasm playing a merry contata in his tone. "None of them do, if you ask them." He picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser absent-mindedly on the desk. Paj's eyes followed the long, sharp, wooden object.  
  
He regarded her for a moment. Sterotypical Vampire, long black hair, long dress (black), and boots (also black). She didn't have an Uberwaldian accent, but then not all Vampires came from there. She sounded vaguely... Quirmian? Genuan? Her black ribbon lay on the desk in front of him, flaunting her invulnerability to the world in general.  
  
"They're all idiots," Paj said suddenly, her knuckles whitening as she grasped the arm of her chair. "They don't know how to handle it, they don't know how to... to control." Ha. She had made eye-contact with the speciesist freak. "But fortunately, that's not what I'm here to discuss."  
  
"Of course," Vimes replied coldly. It had surprised him a bit when Miss Demure of Ankh-Morpork* had done the defiant act, but he had recovered. "The Vampire case. You say you can help?"  
  
"Yes," she said, her tone just as icy.   
  
"I'm sorry, we don't accept Vampires."  
  
Paj burst out laughing. "I don't WANT a badge, don't you understand?" she said, the laughter fading as though it had never filled the room. "I want that bastard to be a jar of bloody ash before..."  
  
Vimes spun the pencil on his fingers. "Before what?"  
  
Paj fixed him with a glowering stare. "Before I take the law into my OWN hands and just capture him and torture him and listen to... his... every... dying... scream."  
  
Vimes was silent for a few minutes. "Oh no," he said softly. "You're not a fanatic in ANY way."  
  
Paj burned red. "So can I help?"  
  
Vimes shrugged, and set the pencil down. "We can use all the help we can get, I suppose."  
  
Paj pulling back her lips and showed her teeth in a gesture that was normally called a smile. "Well, that IS good news."  
  
  
  
Well, crap.  
  
Neris hopped across the floor on one foot, pulling her boot on. Paj was gone! Gone, for goodness' sakes. And to top it all off, the black ribbon that was always wound around the floor lamp in the corner had disappeared.  
  
Her day was going from bad to worse. She had woken up at four in the afternoon, (FOUR!), it had taken her a whole half an hour to blearily figure out that Paj had vanished (she had left a note, but STILL), and much to her surprise, the eggs had gone bad. Unfortunately she discovered this AFTER she had cracked them into a bowl. Neris concentrated on sucking on one of her strongest peppermints. If not make her feel better, it would at least make it so that she couldn't smell the stench.  
  
And of course there was still the problem with Paj. Where on EARTH would that girl go with a... black... ribbon...  
  
"Bloody hell," Neris said.  
  
  
  
Her booted feet pounded the paveme- rocks that passed as a road. Dammit, boots a size too large was NOT what she had been looking for. Not at all. Bloody hell.  
  
Neris slowed suddenly, her long strides turning into tripping steps turning into soft padding turning into a complete stop. She fumbled with the leather bag at her side, searching through it, panicked. Wherewherewherewherewhere...  
  
Aha. She spritzed herself with the sharp perfume, and also at a small stinky man who was staring at her. Purely in self-defense, mind you. No malicious aforethought or anything like that. Completely innocent.  
  
... er...  
  
Neris swept back into her practiced Proceeding, tucking the small bottle back into her bag and steadying her sword. She knew that Mister Vimes had given her the day off, but she wouldn't have any excuse to go barging into the Watch house demanding to see a Vampire if she didn't have her uniform on. Somebody might at least THINK that she was on duty...  
  
Honestly. Of all the people to go running off to help with the investigation, it had to be Paj. Incident'ly, there's a small waggy dog over there with big weepy eyes which would prob'ly quite enjoy a bit of biscuit or sommat, if you happen to have one about your person, and look, he's so cute... Neris thought to herself, and tossed a small peppermint to the mangy grey dog with realizing it.  
  
"M'ny sanks," it dribbled around the peppermint.  
  
  
___________________  
*The first (and last) Miss Demure could now be found wandering the Shades in Dominatrix leather and brandishing a whip. Reverse psychology can be a wonderful thing. 


	7. Vérité Fausse

A/N: I've seen Episode 2 twice now. I'm still not sure what the heck it's about. Personally, I liked Phantom Menace better, but of course I've always had a soft spot for Liam Neeson... *sigh* And Anakin scaaared meee!  
  
  
Chapter 6 - Vérité Fausse  
  
  
  
Tak.  
  
The pen tapped slowly on the surface of the deep, red mahogany desk. A few papers lay there in specially organized piles, rustling in the mild breeze that blew softly through the room.  
  
Tak.  
  
Black velvet curtains hung heavily on the windows, a musty barrier against the invading forces of light. Dust hung thick in the air, swirling with every breath and sticking to the sparse furniture and the plush red carpet.   
  
Tak.  
  
The man at the desk was not one you would expect in such a room. His face was round and florid, he wore tiny round glasses, and he was SHORT. His toes barely touched the ground underneath the desk. He scratched his last few black hairs, combed carefully over the pink dome of his large head, and brought the pen down.  
  
Tak.  
  
"This could be dangerous, you know," he said, his voice shrill and worried. The black cat on his lap plurted with smug satisfaction. He chewed his lower lip. "I'm worried about the Commander, to be honest. He doesn't know what he's getting into." The cat blinked at him.  
  
Tak.  
  
He scratched it between the ears. "But you understand," he murmured to it, fondling its ears. "You've always understood." The cat mewed.  
  
Tak.  
  
  
  
Neris saluted hurriedly. "Terribly sorry to bother you, Sergeant Detritus, but have you seen a tall Vampire with long, braided black hair come in?" she rattled off nervously in one breath.  
  
The troll adjusted his whirring cooling helmet. "Yah, sent 'er up to Mister Vimes," he replied. "But she gone now."  
  
Neris swore under her breath. "Right, sir," she said. "Thank you, sir." She tore off another salute and spun on her heel, running out of the building.  
  
Neris paused outside the building to catch her breath and inspect the street. Shocked street vendors, beggars nursing bruised shins, small black scorch marks on the cobbles... Neris grimaced. Paj had gone THAT way, then. And in a huff, at that. Neris took off again, mumbling excuses as she elbowed through the midday crowd.  
  
What the dickens did that fool girl think she was up to, running off like that? From the marks, though, it looked as though Mister Vimes had turned her down... but WHAT had he turned down? Neris felt ice in her stomach. Paj hadn't offered to HELP, had she?  
  
Aha. A familiar head of hair bobbed up and down over the crowd a ways down the street, moving erraticly back and forth. That was Paj, all right. When she was pissed enough she tended to weave when she walked, didn't look where she was going. Neris picked up her pace and laid a hand on her sister's shoulder.  
  
Paj jumped and spun, nearly knocking Neris to the ground with a back-hand swipe that would have clobbered a taller man. She blinked amd stared at the empty place behind her.  
  
"Don't DO that!" Neris hissed from the ground, crouching and clutching the sides of her helmet. She glared up at her sister, who blushed.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled, giving her sister a hand up. "You surprised me."  
  
Neris grumbled to herself as she brushed the dust off. "Well, admittedly, yes," she growled, cossing her arms and glaring up at the other girl. "However, that STILL doesn't excuse your behavior."  
  
Paj went from enraged to innocent in a matter of seconds. "Behavior?"  
  
"You KNOW what I mean, Paj," Neris scolded as the crowd of people flowed around them. "Going out without telling me, taking the black ribbon, going to Commander Vimes..."  
  
Paj looked miserable. "You're psychic, aren't you?"  
  
Neris subsided, sighing heavily. "No, I can just read the signs. You made it fairly obvious."  
  
"I only wanted to HELP," Paj moaned, staring at the ground and kicking a cobble stone. "They wouldn't even let me give them information! They said..." Paj paused, and glanced up at her sister with wide eyes. "Uh..."  
  
Neris glared at her. "They said WHAT?" she growled.  
  
Paj thought fast. "They said they didn't think I would know anything anyway," she said in one breath, her features darkening. "Can you BELIEVE the NERVE?"  
  
Neris appraisingly looked her sister up and down, her eyelids at half-mast. "Yes," she responded finally. "You're BRISTLING. You're WILD. You're... you're..." She came to a brick wall in the labyrinth of her thoughts, and went into default copper. "You're just not a reliably accurate witness, to be honest. Sergeant Detritus wouldn't take evidence from you in the middle of summer without his cooling helmet."  
  
Paj gasped like a fish. "But-"  
  
"Because, Paj!" Neris groaned, massaging her temples. "To a copper, you seem emotionally and mentally unstable enough not to trust. You're walking on a razors edge, girl."  
  
"You're not my mother!" Paj retorted.  
  
"But I'm your older sister so you have to listen to me!" Neris yelled back, glaring up at her sister.  
  
"No I do not!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
Neris and Paj glared at each other, panting heavily. A few people had stopped to watch the two girls scream at each other, but had wandered off after the show was over.  
  
"Sorry," Neris mumbled.  
  
"'M sorry too," Paj mumbled back.  
  
"Peppermint?"  
  
"Sure, thanks. Let's go home."  
  
"No problem here." 


	8. La Mort de la Lumière

A/N: New chapter! Yay! This is where we explain some things that have been going on... whee! And where I get to start up the event I've been waiting for... the first of many!  
  
(Dangit, I just ran out of peppermint.)  
  
  
Chapter 7 - La Mort de la Lumière  
  
  
  
Monsieur Faux? What had the girl been TALKING about? Vimes puffed on his cigar. Some prank by the younger members of the Black Ribboners, no doubt. Did she think that he didn't know Quirmian? "Mister False" indeed...   
  
She had seemed rather sincere, though.  
  
Vimes banished the thought. A prank at the most. Some sort of joke to get back at him for not allowing Vampires in the Watch. The idiots. Made him want to walk around swinging garlic-scented, Holy Water soaked wooden stakes around at chest height.  
  
He moved to the window and rapped on the windowsill. "Constable Downspout?"  
  
"'erss'r?"  
  
"None of your gargoyles have seen any suspicious vampire behavior, have they?"  
  
"O'rry 'er 'or'al kin', s'r."  
  
"Right, then. Thanks, I suppose."  
  
Vimes sat down at his desk again, rapping the table with his knuckles. This case was killing him. No matter what he did, he couldn't figure it out. And damn it all, his office STILL smelled like peppermint. It had been two days and the scent of it hadn't gone away.  
  
He lit a cigar carefully, shaking out the match and taking a few puffs on the fat cylinder. Now then, back to reports...  
  
  
  
"So what, exactly, did you say?" Neris asked, popping a peppermint into her mouth and giving another to her sister. "So Mister Vimes turned you down."  
  
"He didn't turn me down, exactly," Paj said slowly, sucking on her candy introspectively. "At first he accepted the help, but when I told him that I thought it was, y'know, HIM, he went all huffy at me and said that there was no such person. Then I got 'escorted'" -she spat the word- "out."  
  
Neris hid a smile. "Mister Vimes got all WHAT at you?"  
  
"Huffy. You know, lots of blowing out of the nose, and looking at me funny, and opening the door and yelling for people to bring him files, and smoking cigars like anything."  
  
"Okay, now THAT sounds like Mister Vimes," Neris admitted, nodding slowly. "How did they know there was no such person? Both of US know there is."  
  
"I think they looked him up," Paj replied, adjusting her sunglasses. "No files, no records, no newspaper articles, no rumors, no NOTHING. So that meant he didn't exist." She spat. "They didn't even LISTEN to me when I tried to tell them he might not GO by that name."  
  
"But you said they wouldn't take any information," Neris said slowly, arching an eyebrow. Paj blushed and mumbled something. "What was that?"  
  
"I SAID I was EXAGGERATING," she huffed loudly, her braids swinging. "I was UPSET because they hadn't TRUSTED me."  
  
"Ah," Neris noted, grinning to herself. "A lie in the heat of battle. For want of a nail..."  
  
"For want of a what?"  
  
"A nail. Old rhyme about how a battle was lost because a messenger needed a horseshoe nail in order to send a message."  
  
"Couldn't he have just used a clacks tower?"  
  
"NO, Paj, they didn't HAVE clacks towers back then."  
  
"Ye gods, why not?"  
  
Neris heaved a sigh.  
  
  
  
"So you haven't found anything?"  
  
Dimitriev shifted uncomfortably on his chair. "All evidence points to a certain Mr Faux, but-"  
  
"Zat iz ridiculous," snapped a heavily accented (probably) female voice. It was a rich voice with suggestions of large rings and velvet carpets. "Faux iz only a Qvirmian vord for false. Who vould actually CALL himself that?"  
  
Dimitriev adjusted his collar. "Someone who didn't want to be found out, I suspect," he answered a tad darkly.   
  
"Our young friend here seems to be... uncomfortable," came another voice, dripping of icy authority. There was a titter of laughter. "Perhaps ve should find somevun ELSE to conduct zer investigation. Leave it to zer Vatch, perhaps?"  
  
"That would be foolish and unnecessary!" Dimitriev objected, half-rising out of his chair. "It's only been a few weeks, it would be STUPID to leave it to-"  
  
"But luckily you are not zer vun who tells us vot to do," the rich voice interrupted again. Female. Definitely female. "Unless I am mistaken, VE are zer vuns who tell YOU vot to do. Yes?"  
  
Dimitriev drooped. "Yes," he mumbled.  
  
"Good. Now zen, Do you haf any leads?"  
  
"Yes. A vampire and her sister, lodging with Mrs Cake."  
  
"You sink ZEY are zer vuns?"  
  
"It's possible, but mainly I want to see if they have any information."  
  
"And? Vhen are you planning to GET zis information?"  
  
"Tomorrow; I'll have to time it right so I get them both, but without raising suspicion."  
  
"And vhy vill zat be hard?"  
  
"Because one of them's a Watchman."  
  
  
  
Captain Carrot scrawled on his paper painstakingly, scraping carefully with his pencil. He was writing a letter home. He always did this when he was thinking.  
  
  
Dear Mum and dade*,  
  
How are youe? I am fine. Nothing much has hapend, lately exsept for a few murders wich are rather, unninteresting. I was very glade to here of the discovery of irone in shaft, 3 and I wishe I could be there to help out but my dutie is with, the Watche. Hold on I have to write more, later because there's a large fire in Shorte Street Sergeant, Colon tells me.  
  
  
_______________  
*Carrot can do everything well. Except, of course, decide where to put commas and the chance E. This is an important and endearing aspect to his character, and one of the many that drive his girlfriend Angua completely up the wall. 


	9. Vous Ne Pouvez Pas Me Blesser

A/N: My goodness, it was SUNNY today! Imagine that, nearly June and it's already showing sun... (please note the sarcasm...) Took me a while to figure out what exactly to put in this chapter, on top of my little sister getting the Harry Potter DVD and not being able to find the deleted scenes, so guess who got to help her... (we STILL haven't found out where they are) And now I'm just DYING because I just got two REALLY REALLY TANTALIZING ideas for HP fics and I will NOT allow myself to work on them until this chapter is done. Rarr.  
  
  
Chapter 8 - Vous Ne Pouvez Pas Me Blesser  
  
  
  
The shouts and whistles shot back and forth through the torrid air, erupting from behind columns of suffocating black smoke and from out in the cinder-filled street. Watchmen swarmed on the ground, attempting to put out the fire in their own ways. Constable Dorfl, for example, merely strode in through walls and closed doors, began stomping randomly*.   
  
Neris swore as the whistles reached her ears. "All Officers," they said quite clearly. Even if they didn't, the screaming and orange glow over the rooftops spoke for them. She tossed her bag to Paj without a word and began running.  
  
"Wait!" Paj called after her. "Where are you GOING?"  
  
"Short Street!" Neris yelled over her shoulder. "Big fire, all officers, mandatory! Go home!"  
  
Paj huffed as Neris turned to corner and disappeared from sight. Ever since she had gotten that Watch position she had been running off like nobody's business all the time. And she had expected Paj to stay at home, KNITTING or something, every time she ran off. Didn't she realize Paj could take care of herself? That she wanted a life too?  
  
Paj shrugged, sighed, and stalked back home, grumbling under her breath with every step.  
  
  
  
Angua dashed down the street, ducking alleys and jumping whatever got in her way with a practiced ease. She had smelled the fire before she had heard about it, but by then it had been too late. The ashes floated in the air, smothering all the other smells. She couldn't smell anything else.  
  
"Sergeant! Wait!"  
  
Angua skidded on the cobbles, spinning. It had begun to rain a few minutes ago, and the street was slippery. Neris panted up beside her, bending over and leaning on her knees to catch her breath.   
  
"What IS it, Constable?" Angua growled, crossing her arms over her breastplate. The smoke was driving her insane, stinging her nose and eyes.  
  
"What's going on?" Neris choked out, heaving.  
  
"There's a FIRE!" Angua yelled, waving her arms. "What ELSE is there to KNOW? Now come ON!" She turned and leapt into a long-strided run. Neris coughed and followed more slowly.  
  
  
  
Vimes wiped his forehead, squinting through the waving air. And now it was raining on top of it all. It was just a small shop, run by one of the immigrant families who came on the ships and worked all day and all night for years until they could afford passage back to where they had fled from.   
  
From what he had gathered it had been a neglected lamp in the back room, left to burn until... It made absolutely no sense. Even neglected lamps couldn't start fires unless they were knocked over. Either someone wasn't telling the truth, or someone... was... missing.  
  
"Damn," Vimes hissed.  
  
Neris and Angua trotted up behind him, Neris gasping for breath and lagging behind. Sweat streamed down her face steadily and she held her ribs. Angua glanced at her, and... vampire?  
  
Her hackles rose as the dry, brittle scent washed over her through the smoke and ash. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.  
  
"Somebody get in there!" Vimes yelled, waving an arm wildly. "There are still people in there! I think..." he added under his breath. Angua started forward, trying to ignore the vampire smell, but Vimes stopped her. "Fire and silver," he muttered urgently, shaking his head. She grimaced before movement caught her eye.  
  
"Shit!" Angua growled. Neris had taken the oppurtunity (such as it was) to dash into the blaze. "Somebody stop her! Get her out of there and send Dorfl or Detritus! Go!"  
  
  
  
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid. What had possessed her? How had she gotten the notion that she could DO anything?  
  
Neris flinched as an unidentifiable piece of furniture burst into flame next to her, sending a shaft of sparks and ash high up into the air. A little nagging voice hissed to her, whispering of death and banishment and... separation. She pushed it away; she couldn't afford to be distracted.  
  
Not now.  
  
Not ever.  
  
  
  
"Are you all here?" Vimes yelled at the huddle of blackened civilians who stood shivering in the rain. The tallest counted heads and nodded shakily. Vimes stared at it. "You're SURE?"  
  
"Ve're sure, Mister Vimes," the authority figure yelled back over the din. "There are only five of us, anyvay."  
  
Vimes stared at them, and turned to Carrot, who nodded. "A Black Ribboner family, sir," he muttered. "They're in the files."  
  
Vimes turned back to them, more slowly this time. "So that means that Constable de Sang is in there for no reason, hmm?" he said slowly. "They're all out. Neglected lamp. Lost Watchman."  
  
"Arson, sir?" Carrot suggested.  
  
"Who would do THAT?"  
  
"A lot of people, sir," Carrot replied, surprised. "Admittedly, they'd have to be a tad dull to try to kill vampires using a housefire, but vampires aren't very popular in Ankh-Morpork, sir."  
  
Vimes rubbed his chin, feeling two day's-worth of stubble there. "And the general IQ of an Ankh-Morpork citizen is around room temperature," he mumbled to himself.  
  
So. Arson. Another possibility to add to the scores of answers that marched through his brain like insubordinate troops, grinning and swaggering and wiggling their eyebrows arrogantly at him.  
  
"So the next order of business is to get Constable de Sang OUT of there and INTO my office," he said loudly. "Preferably in one piece, so I can get the honor of disassembling her myself."  
  
  
  
No cries for help. No sight of anything vaguely organic, for that matter, save a pot of cooking fat that went up in a fireball. Neris stood in the middle of the room (the kitchen?), shielding her face with her upper arms and blinking the ash out of her eyes.  
  
Well, lovely.  
  
Lying scab that she was, she still couldn't think of a reason to explain her behavior. She'd made it a habit, lying. It made it easier to stay alive. It made life... easier, and harder at the same time.  
  
She grimaced and shuffled carefully toward what looked like a doorway. This was promising to turn into one of the harder parts of life.  
  
Something black fell in front of her, and she caught a glimpse of orange lit features before a silver blade swung toward her, sending her crashing across the room.**   
  
  
  
_______________  
* He does this a lot. The first notable time is in "Jingo."   
  
** This is suspense, by the way. You'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out that she was knocked over by bed linens and a cooking pot.***  
  
*** Although this explanation probably isn't true. It might be a spatula, you never know. 


	10. Ce N'est Pas Bon

A/N: This chapter gave me more trouble than I expected. I had been looking forward to this point in the plot for a while now, and yet when I came to it, I was completely at a loss of how to write it. So don't expect this to be good. And don't be surprised to see that it changes in the next few days as I redo it. (And yes, it's short... that's one of the problems with it. Waaah!)  
  
  
  
Chapter 9 - Ce N'est Pas Bon  
  
  
  
Neris stared up at the underside of a table. She felt extremely disoriented. "That was uncalled for," she grumbled.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You didn't have to be so VIOLENT."  
  
"I said I was sorry."  
  
"Oh, the regret. I feel so justified."  
  
"I didn't know it was you, I swear!"  
  
"You could at least help me up."  
  
"Right. Right. No problem! Now..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
  
  
Paj ran most of the way home, through the rain, with her cloak over her head. Her day had been wrong, all wrong. It was annoying, really. Ankh-Morpork was not her kind of place. Rough, grimy, untidy, smelly, unlucky... not like Quirm.  
  
No.  
  
Quirm was... worse, in ways. Ankh-Morpork was dirty, grungy. On the outside. But for all Quirm's clean streets and sweet winds, it was a pit of infestuous slime.  
  
Well, admittedly, Ankh-Morpork was VISIBLY a pit of infestuous slime, but at least it kept its problems out in the open. Hung the dirty linen out for everyone to see, actually. Ankh-Morpork may have had a lot of dirty linen, but gods dammit, it was proud of it.  
  
Paj fumbled through her pouch as she walked the last few steps to her door. The key shouldn't be that hard to find; it was an enormous piece of work, four inches of solid iron with the mother of all loopy things on the end opposite the teeth.   
  
She found it at the bottom and tried to ram it into the keyhole irritably, cursing under her breath as she missed. The door opened before she could turn the key.  
  
Paj stared for moment, astonished, before her features twisted and she thrust the key like rapier.*   
  
  
  
"I can't BELIEVE this. Look at this stain. Just LOOK at this stain!"  
  
"I'll help you wash it, okay? Now can we-"  
  
"You didn't have to make me pee in my pants."  
  
"... Ew."  
  
"'Ew' is right. And it's your fault, jumping out like that."  
  
"Didn't I say I was sorry?"  
  
"And do you know how HARD it is to wash blood out of cotton?"  
  
"Wonderful! I always wanted to know about the cleaning properties of different fabrics! Now can we-"  
  
  
  
Dorfl stomped through a wall, his red eyes flaring in the orange heat. He stared down at Neris, who cringed.  
  
"The Commander Wants You To Come Out," he said, his words quite literally set in stone. Dorfl turned, but barely. "You Have Found A Civilian."  
  
Neris stared at the soot-smudged young man next to her, and swallowed. "Yes... yes, I have," she stuttered, trying to wipe sweat off of her forehead and only managing to smear it with ash. "We'll, uh, we'll follow you out, shall we?"  
  
"Understood," Dorfl stated. He turned and made another hole in the wall beside his first. "Come. We Must Hurry."  
  
The boy next to her hung back for a moment, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.  
  
"What is it?" she whispered behind her hand, scowling at him.  
  
"That's a bloody Golem!" he hissed back, squeakily. "It's not even ALIVE! How can it-"  
  
Neris spun, scowling. "You're one to talk," she growled, cutting Dimitriev off in the middle of his sentence. He had the decency to look embarrassed, but shrugged and followed her when she moved to follow Dorfl.   
  
He paused to light a cigarette on the dancing flames.   
  
  
  
Vimes stood in the street, yelling at random people and watching the burning building like a hawk. Two Watchmen on his conscience now. He was just about ready to go in himself.  
  
No, there they were.  
  
Neris held her stomach and coughed while Dorfl tromped back to report to somebody. Vimes started. THREE people? But the family had said...   
  
Constable de Sang and the blackened vampire held a whispered conference barely far enough away from the flames. Vimes started toward them angrily, swinging his arms. He had almost reached them when Neris gave a shriek of "WHAT?" and reared back, but the vampire grabbed her wrist, spread leathery wings, and took off, circling over the fire once before disappearing from sight.  
  
Vimes swore.  
  
  
_____________  
* One of those long, thin swords used by noblemen for duels, war, and spearing things that are too far down the table. 


	11. Mes Dieux, Comment Étrange

A/N: I don't know what I was thinking when I figured this story would be shorter than Octarine Deficiency. There's a least another chapter in store for this one, and that'll be passing OD in quantity. Of course, OD's chapters were longer... But, yes. I'd also like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. The beginning just would NOT get written, and then after I struggled through THAT, the last two-thirds wrote themselves in about twenty minutes.   
  
(Just for the record, the name of the chapter means "My Gods, How Strange.")  
  
  
Chapter 10 - Mes Dieux, Comment Étrange  
  
  
  
Well now. That had been unexpected.   
  
Paj sat up in the darkness, rubbing her wrist. She could feel a lump of black ice twisting itself in her stomach. Had it really been that long?  
  
She felt the wall carefully, moving her fingers across a surface she couldn't see, inching up, up, up, until... yes! She had enough leverage to stand.  
  
Well, no, apparently not, she thought furiously a few seconds later, lying on her side. That bastard had tied her feet to the floor so she couldn't move at ALL. She had forgotten that about him. He was smart. Not like Leonard da Quirm was smart, of course. More like a rat was smart, digging into the warmest parts of the festering dung heap for the winter.  
  
Ooh, nice visual there.  
  
Paj glowered at the darkness, her black surroundings sparking in the way that always happens when there isn't any light to be seen and your pupils are trying so desperately to catch a glimmer, a flash, that they invent their own light-shows inside the privacy of your own mind.   
  
So. Time to make a summary.  
  
Item 1: She had been kidnapped.  
  
Item 2: She was tied up in some dark place.  
  
Item 3: Her wrists hurt where he had grabbed her.  
  
Item 4: There was pretty much no chance of escape.  
  
Right, enough of that. Too depressing. On to fantasizing about how she would kill him when Neris busted her out of here...  
  
  
  
"I have lost ALL respect for you, you know that, right?" Neris hissed, struggling in Dimitriev's grasp.   
  
He swung an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him so that her hand wouldn't fall off at the wrist. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he mumbled around his cigarette, bobbing up and down in the air as he moved his wings in a lazy breast-stroke. "But that's not important."  
  
"Oh, just shut up and go faster, will you?" she grumbled back, swinging hair out of her face. "And move your bloody hand!"  
  
  
  
Angua leapt over a clothesline. Bloody hell. She almost wished it had been HER that the vampire had taken, just so that she could tear his throat out.  
  
There they were. Constable de Sang didn't seem to be struggled.   
  
Which meant he had DONE something to her, the bloody bastard.  
  
Angua ran faster.  
  
  
  
Neris risked a glance over her shoulder as they soared low over the rooftops.  
  
Angua was following them. Damn.  
  
"Hey, you know what I don't understand? Why don't you-" Dimitriev started, but Neris cut him off by placing her hand on his mouth.  
  
"We're being followed by a bloody WEREWOLF," she hissed at him through her teeth. "They work mostly by smell, but that's not to say that they can't hear you talk a mile away. So for gods sake, shut UP."  
  
He stared at her, swooping around a chimney. "You're kidding," he finally choked out, after she had moved her hand.  
  
Neris glared at him. "Why would I lie about a bloody werewolf?"  
  
"Not that. You mean that they don't know?"  
  
Neris stared down at the sleek shape underneath them, leaping from roof to roof. "Of course they know," she muttered. "They have to know. Everyone knows."  
  
  
  
Paj sneezed and blinked as the door opened. Bright lights swam in front of her eyes.  
  
"Ah, I see you're awake."  
  
"As it were," she mumbled, blinking the erratic fireworks from her line of sight.  
  
"I would like to apologize for my hired-man's roughness. You tell someone to get something, you expect it to arrive, oho, intact."  
  
Paj glowered, squinting in the bright light. "I'm pretty intact as I am," she growled.  
  
"Oh, but you are only HALF of the package. The other half is due to arrive just about... now."  
  
Paj realized what he meant as the door closed, and rose to her feet with a shriek of anger.  
  
  
  
They touched down on a roof indistinguishable from the rest. Neris broke away from Dimitriev and brushed herself off carefully, twisting to give her back a few good whacks. She straightened, reaching for her helmet.  
  
"I'm sorry," Dimitriev said ruefully. "It wasn't meant to happen this way, you know."   
  
And then he came at her with a rock.  
  
It came down hard on her helmet, which she had grabbed and swung up by reflex. They both stared at the crumpled piece of metal. "We have to pay for our own armor repairs, you know," Neris mumbled a bit dazedly, poking a dent gently with a finger. "I'm going to need a whole new helmet."  
  
Dimitriev did his best to look apologetic as he swung the rock around again, catching the back of her head with a dull 'WHUD', and she crumpled to the ground soundlessly.  
  
"It was just a job," he mumbled, swaying back and forth over her prone figure, the rock loose in his hand. "I didn't know this would happen, really. It was just some money. It costs a lot to survive. And I'm a Black Ribboner, you know? But no one seems to care. I'm still a vampire. I might as well go back to being happy and rid myself of all the-"  
  
"My heart weeps for you," Neris growled, leaping for his throat. "Truly. A heart-rending story. Three and a half stakes from the critics."  
  
Dimitriev stared at her. "But you... I... the rock! It..."  
  
"It didn't work," she hissed at him, finishing his sentence. "You don't do this very often, do you? You sad, blubbering little cattle vampire. That's what you are, isn't it? You never lived in a castle in the forests of Uberwald. You were a soldier for one of the big bad vampires, the ones who got all the virgins. And do you know WHY?" She moved herself closer to his until he could smell the peppermint shampoo she used. "Because you were CREATED to follow orders blindly. Go jump off a bridge, you happy lemming."  
  
He gaped at her from the ground, watching her relax her hackles and shake out her hair. "It's... it's you, isn't it? You're the one who-"   
  
Neris kicked him, and her eyes flared red in the dark. "You really ARE stupid. Assuming little SHEEP. You make me sick. Now... are you going to help me break my sister out, or am I going to have to kill you so that you stay dead?"  
  
  
______________ 


	12. La Duchesse Reluctant

A/N: I'M BLOODY BACK!   
  
  
Chapter 11 - La Duchesse Reluctant  
  
  
  
Oho-ho-ho-ho-HO. He thought he was soooo smart, didn't he?  
  
Angua snuffled at the wall. This was where they had gone. Scent-figures danced in the air, betraying the movements and emotions of the people who had stood there minutes before.  
  
Ooooooo... nice move, Neris. She might get a promotion for that.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
  
  
Neris bristled as she strode down the hallway, dragging Dimitriev behind her.  
  
Well, she wasn't so much dragging as he was not resisting, but it had the general effect.   
  
After the initial shock had worn off, Dimitriev had ceased being terribly scared of Neris, remembering some very important facts; i.e., he was a vampire, she was a little red-headed girl, and, haha, he had much bigger things to be worried about. Like his employer. And having his ashes scattered to one or all of the four winds. And perhaps being stuck in a jar for the rest of his li- ...for a long time.  
  
Neris, however, couldn't have cared less. She was worried mainly about getting through this with her skin intact and not being attacked by a strange, eccentric old man with a dental problem and a fetish for young ladies (preferably over the age of seventeen) in underwire nightdresses.  
  
This didn't look terribly likely. Unfortunately. The corridor had gotten darker and more gothic with every step, until she had to start watching her feet so that she didn't slip in a puddle of hot candlewax.  
  
Well, there went that plan. "Stop laughing and help me up," Neris grumbled from the floor.  
  
  
  
Clack. Clack. Clack.  
  
Vimes looked up at the clacks tower as the black and white squares spun and flipped.  
  
Vampires. 32 Easy Street. RUN.  
  
Vimes cursed and ran, shouting for followers. Angua hadn't even bothered to code it. It must be bad.  
  
Of course, he missed part of the message...  
  
  
  
"For the love of cake, get your BLOODY hands off me," Paj hissed through bared teeth. Several faceless (or at least inconspicuous) young men dragged her down the dank hallway, often running her into walls and doors.  
  
"You're serving a grand purpose," one of them said in a dull monotone. "Anyone would give their life for a chance like you have."  
  
Paj felt a chill go down her spine. "What sort of bloody grand purpose includes getting dragged around in the dark?"  
  
One of the men smiled humorlessly, his blank eyes still staring ahead. "Bait," he said, and then hit her head on the door.  
  
  
  
"This is where we play good cop bad cop, dear," Neris growled, pulling Dimitriev into a handy shadow. "Only there's only one cop here, and I'm going to give you ONE guess which one I am."  
  
"The good cop?" he asked hopefully.  
  
Neris paused. "Well, yes, probably, but I'm going to do my best to be a bad cop, okay?" She beamed. "I'll do it for you SPECIAL."  
  
Dimitriev sighed. "So what do you want to know?"   
  
Neris glared at him. She had a feeling she wasn't doing this the right way around. She should be pinning him to the floor and yelling "It was you what did it, RIGHT?" by now. He shouldn't be telling her everything at once. Neris shrugged. "Whose side are you on?"  
  
"My own," he said automatically.  
  
"What's your goal?"  
  
"Not to be staked and spiced and lemoned and burned and blessed and then thrown to wherever the wind takes me. Also to get money. And women."  
  
"Who do you work for?"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
Neris was taken aback. "All of them, I guess," she said finally.  
  
"The Black Ribboners, the Assassins Guild, the Guild of Lawyers, the Bonk Watch, the Klatchian Ambassador, and Mr. Snacker." He smiled at her nervously.  
  
"Mr... Snacker?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"At the Kosher Butcher shop on Fifth and Hilbrook. A guy's gotta' eat."  
  
"But what about this guy? The one you're taking me to?"  
  
Dimitriev rolled his eyes like a panicking cow. "He's different."  
  
"How different?"  
  
"In that if I do the job right I get paid, but if I don't do the job right I get dead. I'm not here because I choose to be. I am, quintessentially, a prisoner. What part of this don't you understand?"  
  
  
  
"Sir, Vampires!" Angua yelled, pulling on her boots. "He took Constable de Sang in with him, and-" she was cut off by the sound of something continuously slapping a granite slab with several pounds of good thick steak.  
  
(Ooh, steak.)  
  
Carrot hammered on the door as politely as possible while wearing a four foot sword and arms like a sock full of footballs. "Watch business! Open up!" Sargeant Colon bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Please!" added Carrot.  
  
The door creaked open wide enough to show a very red, tired eye. Vimes glowered at it and waved a sword he had got from somewhere. "Let us in!" he yelled. "We have reason to believe that one of our officers has been kidnapped and is, even now, being held captive inside of this building!"  
  
"'Tain't no Watchmen here," the eye said, and the door started to close.  
  
Carrot stuck his foot out. "Sorry, citizen, but we really MUST come on, hey? So be a good chap and open the door. I'm sure you, a patriotic tax-paying resident of the wonderful city-state of Ankh-Morpork, would never stand in the way of the law."  
  
The eye stared at him in disbelief. "I'm from Uberwald," it said finally.  
  
Carrot's eyes lit up. "Igor?" he asked.  
  
The door opened a bit more to reveal several stitches over a wrinkled green forehead. "Who wanth to know?" Igor lisped.  
  
  
  
"So basically you're saying that you're under the complete control of this vampire who's been committing all of these murders, trying to find out who was doing it for the Black Ribboners, committing your own murders for the Assassins Guild, prosecuting a murderer in court on part of the Guild of Lawyers, chasing murderers for the Bonk Watch, working for a D'Reg, which means you certainly have a hand in several murders, and sucking the blood out of cows."  
  
Dimitriev smiled as if he wasn't sure he should. "Um... yes, actually."  
  
Neris moaned and covered her eyes. "Stop confusing me and take me to the bloody vampire."  
  
  
  
Carrot led the Watchmen down the hallway, Igor bobbing around him nervously, muttering. They finally came to a stop in front of a large wooden door. Carrot and Vimes looked at each other, then nodded.  
  
Vimes opened the door.  
  
"I suppose you're expecting me to count you all, declare your number, and then laugh like a hiccuping mountain climber who's lost his grip," the vampire said, spinning his chair around.  
  
"Shut up, you old fool," Paj growled from another part of the room. She was chained to the wall, her arms spread out flat against the cold surface.   
  
Vimes pointed at her, as if trying to place a face. "You're the vampire from this morning, aren't you?"  
  
Paj rolled her eyes. "You don't bloody get it, do you?" she groaned, slumping in her chains. "I'm not a vampire! I'm a normal mortal! Like you people!" She paused and looked at Carrot. "Sort of like you. Species-wise, anyway." She hesitated again, her stare running over Detritus and Cheri. "Human, I mean." She was hit with the sight of Nobby. "AT ANY RATE, I'm not a vampire. You can take my word of honor on that."  
  
Vimes stared at her, then the floor, then the nervous little vampire sitting in front of him. "So he's Monsieur Faux?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Paj snarled.  
  
"I must admit that I have gone by that name in the past," Faux confessed, shrugging as an enormous cat jumped onto his lap and latched her claws into him. "It's served me well, but, alas, everything old must be replaced, yes?"  
  
"So you killed all those people?" Vimes asked calmly, a certain look in his eye.  
  
"Oh, them?" Faux thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you could say I did. Yes, yes. And you Watchmen are SO hung up on the truth, aren't you?"  
  
Paj squirmed in his gaze.  
  
Vimes' features darkened. "Are you insinuating something?"  
  
"Of course not," Faux giggled nervously, running a finger down his cat's back. "But... ah! Pray excuse me. May I introduce my lovely and imcomparable companion in this game you mortals call life? You may know her... the 23rd Duchess of the Effréné line, chosen by me to continue our legacy... Sang."  
  
Neris and Dimitriev burst through the door behind him, skidding on the stone floor as shocked expressions chased the anger from their faces.  
  
La Duc de Effréné stood, and it seemed as though he had grown several feet. He reached a hand to Neris. "Ah, my darling," he murmured, smiling. His white teeth shone in the flickering candle light. "You're late." 


	13. Jusqu'à Notre Prochaine Réunion

A/N: I've restocked on peppermint and I'm listening to the soundtrack of "Almost Famous", which is playing in the background (Patrick Fugit is my new lover boy). I've started a little dumpy cliche thing where I go the Discworld, drug Vimes, and take him to go Karaoke. I've just read almost my entire collection of Discworld books in one go. Life is good. So, so good. Welcome to heaven, check your horns at the door.  
  
  
Chapter 12 - Jusqu'à Notre Prochaine Réunion  
  
  
  
Neris turned to Dimitriev with an interesting look on her face. "My... darling?" she asked, her voice cracking incredulously. "I thought you said you HATED this guy."  
  
Dimitriev stared at her for a few minutes, and a hush fell over the room. "He's talking about YOU," he said slowly, after realizing what exactly he'd missed. "Not me. He doesn't like me all that much."  
  
Neris moaned and buried her head in her heads, rubbing her face vigorously. "I was AFRAID of that," she groaned. "Why did you have to burst my BLOODY BUBBLE?!"  
  
Dimitriev made a face and stared, squinty eyed, across the room at nothing in particular. "Because I'm not gay?" he ventured after a moment. "I don't think Vampires come in pink with a matching handbag. We're more into things like, um, girls. With. Er. Necks. And things." He moved his hands vaguely in the shape of a very unbalanced young lady. "You know. I mean... you've got 'em."  
  
"Well noted," the Duke drawled sarcastically, adjusting his cape with a leathery sound. "Your observational skills are legendary from this moment on, I cannot tell a lie."  
  
"You've done it before," Paj snarled. "'Monsieur Faux.'"  
  
"Oh, shut up," the vampire sneered back.  
  
"You shut up!"  
  
"BE QUIET!" Vimes screamed, screwing his eyes closed and waving his arms over his head. "LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, OKAY?!" He pointed wildly at Paj. "You're a vampire wannabe." He turned to the Duke. "You're the bad guy." He stared, finally, at Neris. "And you're a vampire. In the Watch. In MY... BLOODY... WATCH!"  
  
"I haven't damn well BIT her yet, you assumptive sod," the Duke said after a few moments of silence.   
  
"Um, he's right," Neris put in nervously. "He HASN'T bit me. Er."  
  
Vimes raised his eyebrows and gave a slow, admitting nod. "Ah," he said. "I see. Hmmm. So what we need to do..." He lit a cigar slowly. "... Is stop you from biting anyone."  
  
"Oh, I think it's a bit late for that," the Duke said calmly, and waved a hand. A sharp pink cloud descended onto the minds of all the people in the room, and they suddenly stopped moving. "But... that's perfectly all right, isn't it... Commander Vimes?"  
  
"Of course, of course," Vimes said dazedly, his cigar dropping from his lips. "A completely understandable request. Completely. A little blood, no problem."  
  
"So it's all settled then!" The Duke clapped his hands. "I get the girl, the Watch, and the City, and you get me. Deal?"  
  
"Deal," Carrot said. "I lay down my right."  
  
The Duke stared at him. "Oh, right," he said. "I nearly forgot about all that." He turned to Neris, who was giggling softly and swaying back and forth where she stood. "The deal has been cut, the stick has been divided... and I believe I have both the short end AND the long end. And now you're mine."  
  
Neris took a deep breath. "Your Grace?" she whispered.  
  
"Yes?" Vimes and the Duke said at the same time.  
  
Neris turned to look at the vampire. Her eyes flashed red in the dim light. "Kill the false Duke of Ankh-Morpork."  
  
The mist thinned in Vimes' mind, and he looked out at the world. He picked his cigar up off the ground slowly, to make sure the top of his head didn't fall off. He put it carefully in his mouth.  
  
"What's the magic word, Constable?" asked his Grace, the Duke of Ankh-Morpork, Sir Samuel Vimes, around a rather muddy cigar.  
  
  
  
Neris was finding it hard to think. She had fallen into the habit... bloody stupid thing to do at a time like this... No, stop. She had to focus. Focusfocusfocusfocusfocuspinkelephantwithateacup-Nooo... FOCUS.  
  
"Please?" she quavered, losing her control.   
  
And Vimes leapt.  
  
  
  
Angua wasn't exactly sure what happened after that. A bit of scuffling, some tossing about of certain wooden objects, miscellanious body parts spraying blood on the walls...  
  
The smell of peppermint. It was sharp. It cut through the mist like a knife.  
  
"Le parfum de la menthe poivrée," she murmured, stepping aside as her commander and the vampire who had terrorized the city for six months scrabbled across the room screaming at each other like valley girls.   
  
Angua shot a pointed glance at Neris, who stood slumped against the wall with a glazed look. Neris with her peppermint silhouette. Neris with her smoked glasses. Neris with the ribbon around her neck.  
  
And Mister Vimes had stopped. Didn't he SEE the MESSAGE?  
  
  
  
Vimes tore at the Vampire's cloak, screaming something about Ankh-Morpork and wooden hippos. The Duke folded underneath the blows. Vimes struck at the pasty-white face and hit flesh.  
  
Vimes scrabbled in his jacket, finally pulling something out. "DO YOU SEE THIS?!" he screamed, waving it in the Duke's face. "DO YOU SEE WHAT I HAVE?! IT'S A STAKE! A SHARP PIECE OF WOOD! EAT STAKE, VAMPI-"  
  
The Duke hit him hard, and Vimes crumpled to the ground. The vampire stood and dusted himself off. "I'm sorry," he said, smiling. "I don't like steak. Cooked meat lacks energy." He turned to Neris. "Where were we?"  
  
Neris flickered her eyelids sleepily without completely blinking. "He was... going to kill you," she murmured, waving a hand vaguely at the wrist. "I... asked him to. Didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, but I rather think he failed," the Duke replied, walking carefully to avoid stepping in puddles of... in puddles. "Although I find it hard to believe that he would follow YOUR instruction... is there something you need to get off your chest?"  
  
"Vampires can only control single-minded people," Neris muttered, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Well, yes," the Vampire replied, nodding. "A not-very-well-known fact, fortunately. However, our dear Commander is, I'm afraid, VERY single-minded. And not often drunk."  
  
"His HEAD was drunk," Neris replied, and moved away from the wall. She tottered over to where Vimes lay and prodded him with her foot. "I'm resigning, sir," she said. "And I'd like to apologize for-"   
  
The Duke had pulled out his sword, standing and waiting, almost nervously. He brought the sword around at neck height, and Neris crumpled to the ground. He looked down at her body, shrugged, and slid the sword back into its scabbard. "How unfortunate," he said. "I had been rather looking forward to her."  
  
Vimes rustled, and his eyes opened.   
  
  
  
Angua poked at the pile of dust with the toe of her boot. "Quite impressive, really," she said, shock and astonishment dancing on her tongue, "the way you picked him up like that."  
  
"My back hurts."  
  
"I don't think he was expecting to be spun around in the air."  
  
"My back hurts."  
  
"I wonder where Neris' head went."  
  
Vimes started to say something, and stopped. "Neris' head?" he croaked.  
  
Angua was looking under the desk. "Yeah. It flew over here somewhere."  
  
Vimes sat up, and realized his clothes were wet and red. "He killed her?"  
  
"I wouldn't say that... Aha!" Angua disappeared under the chair for a moment. "Looks like she fainted or something. Passed out, maybe?"  
  
"That's her head! How can she have passed out? Her bloody head is gone!!"   
  
Angua stared at him. "Didn't you see the message?"  
  
Vimes looked blank. "Yes... why?"  
  
Neris blinked. "Ugh, how embarrassing," she said, turning pink. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Um... some help? Maybe?"  
  
  
  
When everything had been sorted out, the piles of dust swept into bottles, the hench-men marched off the cells, the uniforms sent to the laundry... Dimitriev had disappeared. So had Neris and Paj.  
  
There hadn't been anything to hold them there, really. It had already been discovered that Dimitriev hadn't done anything worse than kick a few dogs on the way to work, Neris had resigned from the Watch, and Paj was scary enough to go wherever she wanted.  
  
The hours turned into days, the days turned into weeks...  
  
  
  
Vimes shuffled paperwork around on his desk. The piles had gotten worse. He moved aside an envelope full of... SOMETHING... and uncovered... an application. Name: Neris de Sang. Age: prefer not to disclose. Weight: A lady never tells.  
  
How on earth had she gotten in? Almost the only field filled in was "Name."   
  
Vimes looked at his hastily scrawled signature on the bottom of the paper. Ah. Now it all made sense. The connection was always there, if you looked.  
  
And now... someone rapped on his door into perfect rhythm. "Shave and a haircut, no legs..."  
  
"Come in, Carrot," Vime called.  
  
Carrot opened the door, saluted, closed the door, and saluted again. "Ex-Constable de Sang has been seen at the dock with her sister, sir," he said crisply, his armor shining in the morning light. "Apparently she's booked passage to Klatch. A one-way ticket, sir."  
  
"And?" Vimes growled. "She deceived us, she dragged us into this whole vampire mess, she blatantly-"  
  
"She was a Watchman, sir," Carrot said, a tad reproachfully. "I think it would be friendly of us if some of us went down to see her off."  
  
Vimes glared at Carrot's honest left ear. He was right. She had been a Watchman. Not the best Watchman; she had a tendency to throw up when they found victims of murder, an aversion to day-time patrol shifts, and seemed to be allergic to Corporal Nobbs.   
  
Er... not that everyone else wasn't, she was just... VIOLENTLY allergic to him. She sneezed until she couldn't breathe when he was in the room. Nobby blamed it on his creams.  
  
"Fine," he growled finally. "Who should go?"  
  
"Actually, I was thinking that YOU could, sir," Carrot said.  
  
  
  
And so he found himself at the dock, mutteringly darkly to himself and glaring at anyone with red hair.  
  
"I didn't know," Neris said quietly, from behind him. "If I had, I wouldn't have joined the Watch. I really am very sorry."   
  
Vimes jumped and spun. He didn't like the thought of vampires sneaking up on him. But she did look sincerely apologetic... "So... where are you going to go?" he growled.  
  
"Klatch, I think," she said. "See the temples, watch the pyramids flare in Djelibeybi... it's not true sunlight, so it won't hurt me. I'll be able to watch it."  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence.  
  
"So you were a vampire all along, then," Vimes said. He wasn't asking.  
  
"Yes," she replied, grinning weakly. "Since I was nineteen."  
  
"Nineteen?!" he croaked. "You don't LOOK-"  
  
"I'm thirty-six, Mister Vimes," Neris said slowly.  
  
Vimes stared at the dock for a little while. "Really," he said finally.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Er... then how old is your sister? Isn't she older than you?"  
  
"She's twenty-two."  
  
There was yet another moment of silence.  
  
"So that's it, then?" Vimes asked, lighting up a cigar. "Will you be back?"  
  
Neris looked out at the ocean through her smoked glasses, her ears filled with the sounds of sea birds and Paj beating the snot out of an apprentice thief.   
  
"No," she said, after a while. "You'll never see me again."   
  
Something like a sick foghorn hooted a dying call. Neris sighed and smiled. "That's our ship, then," she said, adjusting her grip on her luggage.   
  
"Have a nice trip," Vimes said, shrugging half-heartedly. "Goodbye."  
  
Neris heaved her bag over her shoulder. "No," she said. "Adieu."  
  
  
__________________________  
Unless my mother is wrong and "adieu" isn't the one that means "goodbye forever", then the story is over. I never thought I'd get here. It's rather distressing, actually. I don't have any immediate ideas at the moment, and it's killing me. So... au revoir! 


End file.
